


Marked

by fiablue



Category: Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Bruises, Choking, F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiablue/pseuds/fiablue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By chance Emma learns that pleasure doesn't always come in the form you expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the tags this fic is definitely based on consensual sex, there is nothing graphic and both characters are in a deeply loving relationship. 
> 
> The idea for this just came out of no where really and Emma and Knightly just seemed like an interesting couple to try it with.

 

It was accidental the first time…

A product of an overly passionate encounter …

An unintentional, ungovernable force misapplied…  

A mishap…

                            

That is what they’d tacitly agreed upon the following morning when the purple splotches started to blossom on her neck; faint and peculiarly circular. When her husband was unable to look her in the eye he was so ashamed; when Emma first felt the butterflies swoop low in her stomach as she fingered the marks.  That is what they agreed on that morning when Emma began to realise her notion of pleasure was not entirely conventional. 

***

 ‘N’ had taken ‘M’ for better or worse on a glorious summer’s day. She had basked in the well wishes of her family and friends and gloried in the secret kisses she coaxed from her husband at the wedding breakfast. It had been a perfect day and a joyful five months of marriage that followed.  Emma was perfectly satisfied with her life. She had no cause to repine. That was until ‘ _t_ _hat night’_ happened;  when her notion of pleasure had been so thoroughly overturned that everything that came before must by necessity be rendered ordinary in comparison.

In the first days of her marriage, Emma had not been at all surprised to find that her oldest friend was a considerate lover. He had always been so kind to her that it seemed only natural that this should extend to their intimate encounters as well.  He was gentle and methodical as she supposed all husbands must be.  She adored that he was this way with her; she would not have him change simply because they were married.  The fact that he seemed to gain so much more pleasure than she out of their physical encounters was not initially something to be wondered at. He was a man and this act was primarily about satisfying the masculine nature and procuring a family. That was a universally acknowledged truth.  Was it not?  Emma had certainly thought so, until ‘ _that night’._

**

It had all begun with Augusta Elton, her barbed tongue and a spiteful observation made to Miss Bates of how much Mrs Knightly seemed to be enjoying the attentions of Highbury’s new resident colonel.  Before Emma knew it, the village was buzzing with whispers and titters of how often she was seen with Colonel Stewart while her husband was away.  She chose to hold her head high and ignore the ridiculous gossip, assured that her dear Mr Knightly would find it equally as ridiculous.

Emma was surprised to find that upon his return her husband was not as sanguine about this situation as she had supposed.

Dinner was oddly restrained. It reminded Emma of the many times they had refused to speak to each other over some disagreement when she was growing up.  But this was different. They had not argued; She knew he held her accountable for the gossip he had heard (it was obvious in the taut lines about his mouth and the way his brow was contracted harshly) but  he had not so much as uttered a word about it. Instead he chose to attack his beef with more vigour than was warranted.

The silence remained until they retired for the evening.

Emma was standing by the window, gazing out at the half moon hanging serenely in the inky sky when she felt him come to stand behind her.  His voice, quiet and jagged asked the question she thought never to hear from him.

_‘Is there any truth in what they are saying Emma?’_  

Her chest tightened painfully as she forced herself to speak.  ‘ _How could you ask that? How could you have such little faith in me?’_ The tears welled up before she could prevent them.

He finally touched her then; grasping her arms and turning her body roughly towards him. With a single finger he propped her chin up to look closely at her face; reading her thoughts.  Emma saw the moment he realised his mistake. His immense frame buckled under the force of his love for her as he asked her pardon.

It was a pardon that was gladly and gloriously given.  

***

The candle was left to burn on the night stand that evening; forgotten, like the night gown and lawn shirt tangled together on the floor.  

***

Emma had flushed unexpectedly when George captured her mouth in a hard, teeth-clashing kiss. She had nearly swooned when he swept her into his arms and carried her into the next room, laying her on _his_ bed. And Emma almost lost her voice with the force of the moan the ripped its way through her chest when his tongue found her breast.  She had tangled her fingers in his hair and held him to her for many long minutes, willing this pleasure to last. But he would not be contained. George moved on: down, down, down her body, grazing each arc and plane with his hands and teeth and stubbled cheeks until she was overwrought with sensation.

 And then he joined with her; deeply, forcefully, almost ferociously.  Emma would have been afraid if she had not known this man her entire life. It was as though every part of him; his blood, his flesh, his bones, his heart was attempting to unite with her through sheer impact. Emma welcomed it, as much as she welcomed the coil of tension winding ever tighter in her abdomen.

**

It happened as George reached his release.  His hands, that had hitherto been cradling her face, reflexively closed, impinging on her upper throat and momentarily sending waves of panic through her body. But after the initial shock Emma didn’t free herself as she knew she ought.  It felt good in some strange way she couldn’t articulate. It felt satisfying to have him there, in command.  She looked to the sharp angle of his jaw as his hear arched back and the coil of tension in her stomach began to hunker  lower, winding tighter and tighter until it suddenly gave way to the most wondrous pleasure she had yet felt as a wife.  She shuddered with the sheer force of it. She shuddered again and again and again, only calming when her husband gently touched his lips to her heaving, fluttering chest.

**

The Bruising was a pale purple and easily hidden.

It took George a week to be able to look her in the eye properly. Emma had tried to tell him many times that it was not his fault and that there was nothing to be sorry for. But his guilt did not fade until the bruising did. 

It took Emma three more weeks to gather the courage to ask him to do it to her again. He refused outright initially, horrified at her desire for his abuse of her.  But as his blushing wife began to explain what she had felt and how he hadn’t actually harmed her, his resolve began to crumble; he could deny her nothing. He had never been able to.   

So, sometime much later they lay asleep, curved deeply around each other; happy.    

 

 

  

 

 

 

 


End file.
